


The Story So Far

by sleepyshaman



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender, World of Warcraft
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Dialogue Heavy, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Galaxy Garrison is a guild, Lance Hunk and Pidge are a group/party, Multi, World of Warcraft AU, World of Warcraft: Wrath of The Lich King AU, Zarkon is The Lich King, and so is Voltron, broganes, hear me out please, inaccurate in WoW and VLD but still accurate at the same time, klance, lowkey smut, please give this a chance, you do NOT have to play the game to read
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-24
Updated: 2017-06-28
Packaged: 2018-11-04 06:23:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10985193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepyshaman/pseuds/sleepyshaman
Summary: With the might of The Scourge on Azeroth's heels, the Alliance prepares for battle once again. They leave the fate of their home to seven heroes: Voltron.Lance Sabernight has participated in countless campaigns with his guild, Galaxy Garrison, and party of three including Pidge Gunderson and Hunk Garrett. The trio are always prepared to serve their kingdom. When celebrated Paladin, Takashi Shirogane and his brother, Keith Kogane, go missing to the hands of the terrifying Lich King, along with many other paladins, the Alliance is thrown into a disarray and is adamant to the return of their heroes.With the trio fighting off The Scourge in Northrend, they dive into a battle much deeper than the lore of Azeroth, gain friends, and even love.





	1. Nothing Boring About Borea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hero's call, shady dealers, an old friend, and a boat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads up, Keith and Shiro will not be apart of the team for some chapters. Allura and Coran will not be in this fic, but if I continue on to World of Warcraft: Cataclysm, they will be in there as dragons. 
> 
> I will try to update as much as I can, but I do not speed write. I take my time to make sure the chapter flows and will lead well into the next and proofread. Hopefully I can update every 1-2 months. 
> 
> Lance is a Night Elf (Kaldorei) hunter (Marksman to be exact), Hunk is a Worgen restoration (healer) Druid (I know that doesn't necessarily follow the WoW lore but idgaf), Pidge is a sassy little Gnome rogue (assassination).
> 
> Hunters are very self explanatory. Bow and arrows. They usually have a pet companion. Blue is Lance's lion. She is black but has a suspicious blue tint to her fur. 
> 
> Druids use nature and arcane magic. Hunt is a restoration, therefore he uses the powers of nature to heal his allies. Druids can also shapeshift into large cats, bears, owls, deer, and moonkin (look them up if you're curious).
> 
> Rogues use twin swords/ daggers to eliminate their foes quickly. Pidge is an assassination rogue and uses poison and stealth to quickly incapacitate her enemies.
> 
> Shiro and Keith will be explained later.
> 
> Enjoy~

‘Hero’s Call: Northrend!

By order of his royal highness, King Anduin Wrynn, all able-bodied citizens of the Alliance are to report to Recruitment Officer Blythe at Valiance Keep in Borean Tundra.

The Valiance Expedition needs your help to keep the forces of the Scourge under control and safeguard civilized lands! Make your way to the Stormwind Docks and take the ship north to Valiance Keep.

For the glory and honor of the Alliance!’

“Hey, would you get a load of this?!”

Pidge ignored Lance on normal days. Good thing today was a normal day. Lance loved to pick up any task or quest offered known to man, even if it was a lowly one such as passing on a letter. So when she hears ‘get a load of this!’ it basically means to ignore at all costs.

“Lance,” Hunk sighed.

“It’s a job opportunity,” He whined, “it reads we can enlist in the fight against the Scourge in Northrend. Pidge, Hunk, don’t tell me you don’t want to go to Northrend.”

“No, I really don’t. That place isn’t a vacation spot, Lance. There’s Scourge in literally every corner and all kinds of freaky stuff.” Pidge waved her dagger around.

“Yeah, buddy,” Hunk added, “that place is no good.”

“Are you guys serious?” Lance gasped, “together we’ve traveled all over Azeroth and literally fought against demonic creatures in the Outlands and you’re scared of Northrend?! You know what? No. We’re going, I’m enlisting us. We’ve been stuck doing shitty quests for too long.”

Pidge groaned, Hunk swallowed thickly. They couldn’t stop Lance, he was the leader of their team. “We leave as soon as possible. Who needs to run errands?”

“I need to go to Ironforge for parts, since Gnomeregan is literally a toxic wasteland.” Pidge sighed.

“Yeah, I should probably go to Darnassus.” Hunk added.

Lance huffed, two places in two completely different continents. They could always take The Bravery to Kalimdor, but that could take up to three days even with the crew’s magic hands. A trip to Ironforge was much shorter if they took the Deeprun Tram. But to get to Teldrassil before sundown tomorrow, the trio would need to hire a mage from The Mage Quarter, which wouldn’t be problem. The inn they were housing in, The Blue Recluse, was situated in a courtyard of The Quarter.

“Okay, we’ll head to Ironforge first, get Pidge’s supplies and shit, come back, pack up, higher a mage to get to Darnassus and back, and head to Borean Tundra, Falore?” Lance spoke, the last word in native Darnassian.

Hunk and Pidge nodded, heaving their bags over their shoulders. The Trade District was bustling with vendors and heroes. From dwarves to draenei, Stormwind City had it all. If one were to head into the Cathedral Square, they would be met with paladins and priests alike, all headed to the chapel to pay their blessings. The Mage’s Quarter held warlocks, mages, druids, shamans, tailors and potion makers. In the Quarter, you were guaranteed to find something you would never expect.

Old Town, were assassins and alike ruled, held the quartermasters and explicit vendors. There, you could buy a simple horse or test your skills. It was also a great place to drink the night away and hook up with a beautiful species of any race.

Alas, was The Dwarven District. Where gnomes and dwarves ruled with their boisterous laughs and brilliant minds. It was stuffy and polluted due to the abundance of blacksmiths and laboratories. There, you find Deeprun Tram. Built by gnomes to take any member of the Alliance straight to Ironforge in a matter of minutes.

Pidge, being a gnome, loved The Dwarven District. It was lively and memories were bound to be made in any establishment. But she loved Ironforge even more.

The tram was dirty, as usual. With his elongated elven ears, Lance could hear the screams and cheers of the Brawler’s Guild below the tram. He was sure Hunk could hear it with his canine-like hearing. Across the platform, a vendor sold pet sewage rats for battling. Lance couldn’t recall the last time he saw the man get actual business.

The tram arrived within a minute of them waiting. A human warrior got off, seemingly in a hurry as he dragged his companion, a night elf druid, along with him. She sighed with a smile, her dark hair falling over her shoulder as they paraded towards the outside.

As the trio sat down on their cart, Lance fumbled with his short silver hair. It had some clumps from their last mission still within, the braids from his last visit to Ashenvale long gone or barely holding up. His dark lavender skin was marred with dirt and sparse scars and dried blood. He needed to bathe before they boarded The Kraken to Northrend.

  
Pidge was, in short, a gnome. She specialized in quick assassinations and could kill about anything for anyone for the right price. She had short caramel hair, curled around the base of her neck, big eyes and a small nose. She was cute, but deadly.

Hunk was a worgen, which were practically unheard of around the Eastern Kingdom. No native Gilneans usually wanted to leave their territory. But Hunk grew up with Lance in Teldrassil, learning the ways of the druid and nature’s magic. He usually remained in his human form, only manifesting as his true self when it came down to it in combat. One barely could tell he was worgen if it weren’t for the mysterious golden glint in his iris.

Blue nudged at his hand. She was a lion from the depths of Blackrock Mountains, one of the rarest pets of them all. Lance claimed her at a young age when she was just a cub, being transported from the ship ports of Rut’theran Village illegally. They have been inseparable since.

Lance had not paid attention to the conversation between Hunk and Pidge until the tram made a jarring stop and they were piling off onto the platform. Tinker Town was just ahead, to the left was The Military Ward, to the right was the Hall of Explorers, where you could buy heirlooms and artifacts that cost more than your weapon.

“Pidge, where exactly are we headed?” Hunk asked as they summoned their mounts. A Traveler’s Tundra Mammoth for Hunk, Champion’s Treadblade (an amped motorcycle she had modified herself) for Pidge, and a Swift Spectral Tiger for Lance. All mounts they had worked incredibly hard for.

“That, my fluffy friend, is a great question.” She picked at her nails, a grin on her face.

“Pidge.” Lance sighed, “please don’t tell me we’re going to一,”

“The Forlorn Caverns? Okay, then we’re not going to the Forlorn Caverns.”

Collectively, Lance and Pidge groaned, Blue made a small grumble from her lope along his saber’s side.

“Oh, come on guys,” Pidge chuckled, “I’ll be in and out, just a quick trip to Fizzglacks.”

“You mean the black market?” Lance deadpanned.

“No!” She went silent, “okay, yes.”

“Can Lance and I just, chill in The Commons or something?” Hunk whined. For once, Lance agreed. He hated the Forlorn Caverns with it’s thick scent of musk and danger. It made his ears flick with anxiety. Not only that, but the shady dealers that tried to sell him badly made daggers gave him the creeps.

“Sure, go ahead you wusses.” Pidge rolled her eyes.

“Just come find us at the bar or something.” Lance called out as him and Hunk veered off. Hunk gave a few glances behind towards the cavern. They both knew Pidge would be fine. She was a top of line rogue, part of the SI:7 and a member of the Galaxy Garrison Guild, as all of them were.

Once in the commons, the two sat at the closest inn that offered quality alcohol and meals. They both ordered mugs of dwarven beer and loaves of Elwynn bread and Darnassian bleu cheese, legs elevated on the table as they chatted away.

“Lance!?”

His jaw dropped.

In front of him, was a blood elf, in all her glory. Her blonde hair was in an updo of braids and golden thread. Dark, vibrant eyes staring into his. She had dark robes on, her staff mounted onto her back, towering high above her head. An imp pranced next to her. Blue growled, the innkeeper seemed wary.

“Nyma,” Lance paused, “it’s… great to see you. Where’s Rolo?”

Nyma was a blood elf warlock. She had a rough history with being a neutral contender in the war against Illidan Stormrage. After years of working hard and help from her companion, Rolo, she had become an official member of the Alliance, all ties with the Horde cut off.

Rolo was a night elf, much like Lance. He even had white hair like him, except Rolo’s was much thicker and longer, adorning his thick jaw and thin eyes. He was also a warrior, thick sword always banging against his armoured thighs and a awful smirk smashed on his thin lips.

“Oh, he stopped by the blacksmith, he should be here any moment.” She smiled sweetly, plopping down next to Lance and ordering herself a shot of whiskey. “So what have you been up to? Where’s Pidge?”

“Pidge is in the caverns, doing her evil gremlin activities,” Hunk glanced down at the imp, “we’re waiting on her to finish before we head back to Stormwind.”

Nyma nodded, taking a sip of the drink. She cringed, she never was one for alcohol. But Nyma was never one to disappoint, especially around Lance.

Rolo strolled in a few minutes after awkward small talk. Lance liked Rolo a little more than he liked Nyma. He had the potential to be a great guy. Too bad he had a bad influence like Nyma stuck around them the whole time. But they were in the same guild, so they couldn’t exactly avoid each other.

Rolo had a big grin on his face as soon as he saw Hunk and Lance. He exclaimed their names, bounding over and ordering a beer himself. He asked the same things as Nyma, which received the same answers.  
Pidge joined them soon enough. She had a bag of materials from Fizzglacks. It was probably better for the lot if she kept her purchases to herself until they got back to their inn. She grinned upon seeing the newcomers, and especially seeing Nyma’s imp. She just loved the thing.

“So,” Rolo prompted once Pidge was settled in, “any upcoming plans for the three of you?”

Hunk glanced at Lance, who glanced at Pidge, who glanced at the imp again and back to her group. Rolo took that as a yes and inquired on their new ‘adventure.’

“Well, back in Stormwind, Lance decided to go and get us another task.” Hunk started, “a new heroes call came up. It was for the Borean Tundra in Northrend. We’ve decided to go, we’re here for some last minute supplies.”

Rolo sat back in his chair, beer forgotten on the table as Nyma played with her long fingers. “Northrend, huh? That place is so…”

“Foreboding?” Pidge hummed.

“Yeah.”

Nyma took another sip of the drink she despised before she sat back as well. “Our old guild took an expedition to the Howling Fjord in the northwest. Only three came back out of the twelve. The Scourge out there is out of control. They’re all disgusting. Not to mention all the Scourge up in the Plaguelands.” She grimaced

“Rumor has it,” Rolo started, taking a gulp of his drink, “That there’s this guy, he calls himself The Lich King. He’s doing this kind of recruitment where he's basically kidnapping high ranking paladins from all over Azeroth, Alliance or Horde. Apparently he got his hands on some really tough guy in the nearby alliance stronghold that’s super high up in the Galaxy Garrison. His brother is missing too, who used to be the Guild prodigy before he got kicked out. It’s bad business dude.”

Lance gulped. Someone out of their guild, kidnapped? Impossible. Galaxy Garrison never let any officer go on a task alone.

“What’s he doing with them?” Pidge leaned forward.

“Repurposing them. He calls them Death Knights. And he isn’t trying to keep them a secret. Not only is he creating an army of Scourge, but specialized killers.”

“Do you think that, that’s what’s happening to this guy and his brother in the guild?” Lance dug his fingers into Blue’s mane.

“Perhaps,” Nyma brushed some crumbs off her lap, “we’ll know sooner or later, when these Death Knights come marching into Stormwind.”

It went quiet again, everyone consumed into their own thoughts.

“We should go,” Pidge spoke up, “we still have to go to Darnassus for Hunk. The ship to Northrend docks tomorrow and leaves the same night. It was nice to see you, Rolo, Nyma.”

They nodded, watching with grim faces as Lance and Hunk finished their drinks and slung on their bags.

“Take care of yourself out there.” Rolo had a hand on Lance’s shoulder. He squeezed. Rolo really was a good guy.

 

Taking the tram back to Stormwind seemed to take much longer than the one from. On the cart in front of them was a mage. They seemed new to the whole ‘hero’ thing, with cheap gear and a poorly conjured familiar loitering around him. Lance didn’t judge. He used to shoot with a crude bow and wear cheap leather.

It was twilight when they were back in Stormwind. The mage that took the tram as well offered to give them a portal to Darnassus and back for free.

“The portal will stay in The Temple of The Moon,” He spoke as he drank a quick mana potion, “it’ll disappear after two uses, but no one dare steal in the temple, so don’t worry about getting left behind.”

The mage’s name was Uldanor, he was twenty seven years old, a gnome like pidge. He was headed to the Stranglethorn Vale to establish more Alliance bases. Soon, he would join the fight against the Scourge in the Plaguelands. Lance gave him some silver and a potion of health. He would need it.

 

Darnassus was always chilly. Teldrassil itself was warm in some areas, especially around Ashenvale where new recruits trained and honed their skills.

After bowing to the high priestess, the trio left the temple, mounting up. They were headed to the Craftsmen’s Terrace, where Hunk would most likely get herbalism supplies along with Engineering. He had a weird combination for professions, but Hunk grew up tinkering things around Kalimdor. It was a passion he couldn’t let go, even after becoming a druid.

The Craftsmen’s Terrace was a complication of intricate buildings made from the ancient wood of Ashenvale. They were winding, lit with lamps made from the fluid of fireflies, and made a beautiful space for safe trade and purchase.

A night elf by the name of Chardryn owned the herbalism loft. His partner, Firodren Mooncaller, trained anyone who seeked him. Hunk wasn’t necessary close to either of them, but was no stranger. Chardryn always had a big smile on his face when he saw Hunk strolling up the ramp. Sometimes it would fall once he saw that Hunk was not in his natural, worgen form, but he would never push Hunk to change.

Hugo Lentner and his sibling, Tana, ran the engineering loft. Many bolts and parts littered the ground. The first time Lance visited the loft with Hunk, Hugo was knee-deep (figuratively) in an alliance chopper, yelling at Tana for tools and parts. Tana sat on the couch, laughing her ass off.

They didn’t have a couch anymore.

Hugo and Tana were worgen’s like Hunk. They had the same gruff voice and big build, but chose to stay in their natural form. Hunk loved the both of them, apparently they had grown up in Gilneas together.

Today, Hugo didn’t have a chopper turned over in the middle of the balcony or an Alliance warship parked outside. Both were lounging on the ground pillows (because the couch was thrown out) and enjoying a light lunch.

“Hunk!” Hugo called, waving his giant paws around in the air.

Hunk waved back and offered a greeting as they entered the loft. Pidge’s eyes sparkled at the bits and pieces of machines lying around, careful not to touch so she doesn’t ruin anything that the two worgens were working on.

“Oi! Hunk! What can I get for you!” He grinned, dusting off his paws.

Hunk smiled, accepting the furry appendage for a handshake. “I just need screws and such to pack just in case we have something break down.”

Hugo nodded at Tana, who smiled at the group before she headed up another ramp, probably towards storage. “So where you headed?” He turned back to the group.

“Well,” Pidge spoke up, “Lance picked up yet another Hero’s Call. We’re all headed to the Borean Tundra tomorrow. Fight off the Scourge, save some babes, according to Lance.”

Hugo nodded in thought, “the Scourge is bad news, but somebody’s got to fight them off. Thank you for sacrificing yourself to do that. How long are you planning to spend in Northrend?”

“As long as the Alliance needs us to, heck, we might even join the main raid.” Lance grinned cockily.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Lance.” Pidge grumped, punching the back of his thigh (that’s the highest she could reach.) Lance pouted, they joined the main party of the Burning Crusade, so why not the one for whatever was going on in Northrend?

Tana came back down after a few moments of idle chatter (the death knights and disappearance of the Guild Official came back up) with a small pouch making noises of jingling and metal clanking together. She handed it over to Hunk.

“It’s on the house,” She took a step back.

“No, no, we have plenty of gold.” Hunk frowned, trying to pull out coins.

“Hunk,” Hugo set a hand (paw) on his shoulder, “It’s the least we can do when you and your party are out fighting in foreign lands.”

Hunk was hesitant. He was always so selfless and ready to give, not receive. Lance nudged him, and eventually, Hunk set the pouch in his bag. A small smile was set on his thick lips. “We’ll make sure the Scourge don’t get anywhere near you.” He spoke, determination lacing his words. Hugo smiled.

“Take care of yourself, Hunk. Take care of your team.”

 

The portal back to Stormwind was still in the temple. It floated there without a noise, displaying a picture of the city it lead to. A dwarf walked past within the picture, hauling lumber behind him. It must be late now, it looked like he was closing up his shop.

Pidge stepped through first, as always. She had an excuse along the lines of, ‘I’m the shortest and the smallest, the portal won’t even know someone is trying to get through after a night elf and worgen just passed.’ It was irrational; it had never happened before, but they let her do as she pleased.

The feeling of traveling through portal will never calm Lance’s nerves. It made your head bend and turn in circles and your bones feel cold and insoluble. He always closed his eyes when he passed through, openend, you saw black or you saw reality warping around you like a drug.

Vague music was bounding through the streets of The Dwarven District. The music most likely came from The Trade District, it was always wild at night, the true hub of Stormwind, where heroes of any skill set, race, and class conversed in front of the auction house and bank. Raids and dungeon parties were organized there usually.

Down the street from Stormwind after you walked down The Valley of Heroes and through Elwynn Forest, was Goldshire. It was a small city with Lion’s Pride Inn, a blacksmith, and a few houses. Many heroes went down for a good duel and drink at the inn. Lance wished he could join the night’s festivities, but Hunk and Pidge insisted heading back to their inn. Lance pouted, but agreed. No one knew what was in store for tomorrow.

The thought of the Scourge gnawed at his gut like a bad omen. It twisted and made a lump in his throat as he showered in the inn’s bath house and made him dizzy as he carefully packed his armor into a case. Blue watched him with narrow eyes from her place lounging on his bed. She yawned, waiting patiently for Lance to sit on the bed to wind down. Hunk and Pidge were in the rooms over, probably asleep. Lance always had problems sleeping.

She pushed her head against his side once he pulled the sheets over his shoulders, purring quietly. Lance smiled, running a hand idly through her fur and glancing out the window.

The port was lit up with sailors arriving and preparing for depart. The Bravery had docked for the night, humans and night elves alike hauling cargo off onto carts. Glasses and mugs clanked together and laughter echoed through the walls and up the stairs of the Blue Recluse, most likely dungeon parties coming in for a drink before retiring for the night.

Lance should sleep. Hunk was probably long gone and Pidge might be too. Of course, he had time to sleep on the way to Northrend, but the ocean and air in the northern Eastern Kingdoms and Northrend was cold. He would have to bundle up.

He should sleep, but the icy claws clutching his gut was stronger than the exhaustion pulling at his brain.

The innkeeper woke up early, as usual. The smell of the cook searing eggs from the chickens in Elwynn and cow from Westfall flooded through the halls and arose the three heroes. Lance glanced around, everything was packed, his bow rest against the wall along with his enchanted quiver, bound to never be empty of arrows.

Hunk and Pidge were already sitting in front of the fireplace, sipping on orange juice (Hunk had a no alcohol rule before quests) and munching on toast while waiting for the cook to finish the breakfast. Blue lumbered down the creaking stairs behind him and laid down beside him as he sat in one of the arm chairs. He was slightly too big for it, seeing how it was made for humans. It swallowed Pidge, whose feet didn’t even reach the edge of the cushion.

Hunk was still waking up, nodding off and head rolling back into the chair, which startled him awake. Lance ordered him a caffeinated tea.

There were other people in the inn, visiting for breakfast or just waking up. They chattered away, a dwarf laughed. Breakfast was served. Hunk dug in first, Pidge and Lance followed after. They were hungry, but the thought of eating made their stomachs cold. They knew they needed to eat. Lance forced himself, it came easier to Pidge.

The Kraken would dock in the harbour soon. Lance glanced at the clock. It was seven, the ship would arrive at half past eight. It would take a half an hour to get their gear down to the docks and into their bunks under the deck.

“We should pack up soon.” Lance spoke up, the other two glanced at him before nodding.

Everyone was silent. It was always like this before missions. Anxieties and everything that could go wrong would eat away at their minds until they fell into a schedule at their new inn, doing local missions until moved to the main raid. That’s how it always went.

It was silent as they mounted all their bags onto Hunk’s mammoth and headed down to the harbour. Blue was purring next to Lance’s saber, content to press her nose into Lance’s boot. He smiled down at her and cooed.

Once they spent a hour on the ship, their cold feet would thaw and they would start talking again, Pidge would throw cold sea water on Lance and he would whine in return. That’s how it always went.

True to his word, the sailors were spirited and the captain was nice enough. They gave the three their best barracks and some food to snack on. Their suitcases were stacked up in the corner of their room. Hunk and Pidge had pulled a deck of cards out. A game of Go Fish had now become a yelling match of “take my four, no balls, you won’t do it!” And “try me you oversized pidgeon!”

Lance, the diplomat he is, was flipping through his updated adventure guide, displaying the new dungeons, raids, achievements, and opportunities in Northrend. He was especially interested in an island off the coast of Borean Tundra, Colderra. There was a large temple in the middle of it, where dungeons, raids and monsters of such reside. He marked that as a to-do.

His hammock swayed back and forth with the push and pull of the waves around the ship. He was never one to get sea sick, but Hunk was. He turned his head, ear smushing painfully against the pillow. Elf ear problems.

“Hunk, buddy, how you doing?” He questioned.

“Good, so far, I’ve got my barf bucket.” He patted the large metal bucket next to him. Pidge gagged.

“It’s gonna take a few days to get to Valiance Keep,” a sailor spoke up, “hang in there, hero.”

Hunk sent him a smile before turning back to his game. Pidge nudged him with her little foot before laying down a group of cards, which earned a groan from Hunk. Lance rolled his eyes (or, what would be his iris. Night elf’s eyes just glow a bright blue, purple, or white.) and settled back into his hammock, pulling the thick wool blanket over his long body. The hand pulling on his gut had receded back to it’s icy solitude. Lance felt good.

Yeah, they were going to be fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you did not read the chapter notes, I explain some things from this chapter that may be confusing. I urge you to give them a look!
> 
> Anyways, off I go! Until next chapter~
> 
> -sleepyshaman


	2. Enlistment Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Regret, an enemy, cold temperatures, and overgrown spiders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, shaman, you actually got your shit together and posted? Amazing!
> 
> The death knight is a member of The Lich King's elite army. With a long history, modern death knights are recent members of the Alliance or Horde, usually renowned paladins or warriors. They wield dark, unholy powers and are brought up to be ruthless and a void of emotion.
> 
> Paladins are warriors of the light, usually able to take heavy amounts of damage but can heal themselves and their team on a dime. Tank paladins wield a sword and shield, able to use both to protect their party.
> 
> Keith is a human frost death knight, using the frost within his newly altered genetics to freeze his enemies to the bone. Shiro is a human protection paladin. This means he tanks in dungeons and raids, keeping all enemies targeting upon him and relying on his healer to keep him alive. He uses a sword, shield, and blessing of the light to ward off his enemies.
> 
> Enjoy~

“People disappear all the time.

Ask any policeman. Better yet, ask a journalist. Disappearances are bread-and-butter to journalists.

Young girls run away from home. Young children stray from their parents and are never seen again. Housewives reach the end of their tether and take the grocery money and a taxi to the station. International financiers change their names and vanish into the smoke of imported cigars.

Many of the lost will be found, eventually, dead or alive. Disappearances, after all, have explanations.

Usually.’

-Excerpt 1, Outlander, “Prologue”

Drip. Drop. Pause. Drip. Drop. Drip. Pause. Drop.

‘Annoying.’

Drop, drip. Drip, drop. Extra long pause.

‘Is the faucet finally out of water?’

Drop.

‘No.’

Someone was hunched over his cot. Someone had big, wide shoulders, even when lacking spaulders. Someone had no plated, thick armor spread over his chest nor abdomen. He was bare besides the thin cotton shirt.

However, a cleaver the size of a stallion’s barrel and neck combined leaned against the wall closest to the cot. It turned out the man had his legguards on and a pair of thick, plated boots. He was familiar. He was warm. His hand held his own. It was free of any gauntlets or wristguards.

“You’re awake.” The man mumbled and, ah, he knew that voice.

“You’re crying.”  

“Keith,” He whined, broken and helpless. He really was crying. Big, fat, ugly tears rolling down and across his sharp jaw.

He (Keith), was confused. Why was Shiro crying? What happened? Did Keith do something stupid again?

“I’m so sorry.” He heaved, “I’m so, so sorry.”

Keith fluttered his gaze around. There was a chill in the room that seeped down to his very being. His eyes were heavy and made his sight take on a azure hue; even they were cold. His skin was more muted than it was last time he saw it, it had taken upon a gray colour as well, looking as if it could rot off any second.

Shiro was still crying. A tear fell on his face. Keith glanced up at him. “What happened?” He mumbled. His elbows dug into the harsh canvas of the cot and he sat up. Shiro stumbled backwards when Keith bucked him off, landing on the floor. The thick plating of the legguards echoed through the metal of the room, Keith’s ear twitched. “Shiro, what’s wrong?”

Shiro’s eyes were downcast, gleaming with tears.

“Shiro?”

“I did it to save you,” he eventually mumbled.

“Did what?” Keith leaned forward.

“Keith,” he inhaled, “we’re in the Ebon Hold. You’re… you’re a Death Knight.”

The cat was out of the bag. Keith remained silent, staring down at his fingers. The tips were dark, sable and he couldn’t feel them. Were his toes like that too? Shiro’s eyes were locked onto his face but Keith couldn’t bring himself to meet the gaze. He couldn’t be a Death Knight. The last thing he remembered was traveling to the Howling Fjord to command a small mercenary against the Scourge forces, but mostly to gain his brother’s whereabouts. Where did he even stay? He wasn’t a Death Knight. He was a Paladin, like Shiro. Was Shiro a Death Knight?

“What about you?” Keith refused to look at Shiro.

“I一, no, he didn’t, he left me a paladin.” Shiro stumbled over his words.

“Who is ‘he’?”

Pause.

“The Lich King.”

Extra long pause.

The Lich King. Leader of the advancing Scourge forces. The one throwing Azeroth into a spiralling pit of despair, chaos, instability, and much more. No one knew where he came from and why his wrath and willingness to destroy and conquer was so powerful.

They [Keith and Shiro] were Paladins of the Light. They served the Alliance. Keith himself served the adamant Argent Dawn. They were respected and they were powerful.

But that did not stop The Lich King from getting his hands on them.

“How?” Is all he could ask.

Shiro was pulled into a trance of thought, attempting to piece words together in an explanation. How does he tell his little brother that he turned him into the most opposing force in all of Azeroth because the king had taken an unhealthy obsession to himself and his brother, threatening that Shiro allow his brother to be kidnapped and ‘converted’ as he called it or he would send his forces to end his life? Another extra long pause. Keith was waiting with expectant eyes, but yet he wasn’t. His stunning amethyst eyes were gone. Now they were just bright orbs of a cold, cold blue, no hint of the violet he once knew. They held no emotion, even if Keith’s were running wild.

“You came after me,” Shiro eventually spoke.

“What was I supposed to do?” Even Keith’s voice was cold.

“Stay in the Eastern Kingdoms, or something.”

Keith was silent.

Pause. Drip, drop.

“You’re an idiot, Shiro.” For once, Keith sounded like he was upset. His voice cracked and shudders ran through his iced body.

Shiro slid onto the cot with him, wrapping one arm around his brother’s shoulders. God, how could he do this to him? Keith shivered and goosebumps were mountains on his skin. He sniffled, heaved and his chest wracked with dry, broken sobs. No tears came out, they froze at the corner of his eye, just like the rest of his body.

The Paladin dug his face into the mop of Keith’s thick black curls. It was long, and only had the matted remains of the braids the night elves had taught him. They must’ve fallen when Keith fought the forces of the Scourge that had been sent to bring him to The Ebon Hold, back in the Eastern Kingdoms. Keith never went down without a fight.

“The Lich King was going to kill you,” Shiro eventually began, “he got ahold of me on a whim and learned about you. He used you as leverage to make me do his bidding, until he actually found out what you were capable of. He became obsessed, he asked me what you’re name was, how we were related, if you were a pure Paladin. I had no choice but to answer. To him, you were like a toy he couldn’t have. I slept knowing that you were in Kalimdor or the Eastern Kingdoms.

“Then word got around that you had joined an expedition to the Howling Fjord. I panicked, begged the king to leave you alone, but all he did was gathered his forces. He would have you, or he would kill you. He said ‘Shirogane, if you want your precious brother, you will allow him to surrender to me, or he will perish.’ Keith, he was going to kill you if I didn’t let him bring you here. Please understand, please don’t hate me”

Keith remained to himself. He found Shiro, but lost himself on the way. His squadron was most likely dead, or had become Death Knights themselves.

“What now?” He mumbled.

Shiro pulled back, hands finding their way to Keith’s face, kneading his fingers into the pale, lifeless flesh that was still engulfing his brother in it’s cement hold. He couldn’t tell where Keith’s eyes were set upon through the harsh glow. His thick brows only made them seem brighter.

“I’m going to get you out of here,” Shiro whispered, careful to not be heard, “both of us. I don’t know how, but you’re going to be okay, we’re going to be okay.”

“But, what are we going to do right now?”

Shiro knew what needed to be done. As soon as Keith woke up, he was to be dressed and brought to The Lich King, prepared to receive his blade and the necrolytic powers that go in hand in hand. Keith would be forced onto one knee to pledge his ‘loyalty’ to The Lich King and The Scourge Forces. He would be sent down to The Scarlet Enclave for some sort of sick hazing ritual. He would be sent to murder the innocent, to destroy the light within him and make him lose everything he worked so hard for.

“Let’s get you cleaned up and to the king.” Shiro pushed himself off the cot, pulling Keith with him.

He was practically dead weight for a moment until his legs adjusted to the new, icy blood coursing through them. Shiro held him by the armpits as he gained his balance, patient as Keith whined to himself quietly. Guilt coursed through him like a spear to the gut.

“Are you okay?” He mumbled (that was an awfully dumb question).

“Yeah, just freezing.” Keith chattered.

“Let’s get you into some proper armor.”

His armor was simple, as all initiate’s were. Dark, thin plated chest plates and legguards. His gauntlets and wrist guards were slightly thicker along with his boots, decorated with metals of silver and black, blue energy coursing through them, giving an ominous glow, just as Keith’s eyes did. A thick plated piece of carefully crafted metal locked onto Keith’s chestplate and spaulders. It covered his face to the tip of his nose. Keith trembled in place. The Lich King must have no hospitality to make his knight’s warm and healthy.

Shiro helped Keith pull the knots and clumps out of his shoulder-length hair. Once it was clear of the tangles, Shiro pulled the top layers into a thick bun in the middle of his head. Keith’s bangs still settled carelessly onto his forehead, but at least now he didn’t have as much hair holding him down.

Keith stared at Shiro’s arm. It was gone, replaced by one of the delirious Scourge Masters. Instead of human flesh, it was a marred mix of undead flesh and enchanted metal. Shiro hated it, but it was nowhere near the pain Keith was experiencing.

“Your arm,” He mumbled.

“Don’t worry about it.” Shiro cut him off, his flesh hand wrapping around Keith’s bicep to lead him into the main hold.

The subject was dropped as quickly as it was brought up. Keith seemed to be in no mood to argue and Shiro was in no mood to have more guilt and anger towards himself and the world settle in the depths of his stomach.

In the main hold, Keith was quick to bring his arms around himself, tugging the hood of his cloak over his head without a second thought. Eyes from all over the room bore into his figure. Akira Valorheart, ex-paladin of the Alliance and Burning Crusade campaign. Now, he was a Death Knight, fallen to the necrolytic powers of The Old Gods and The Lich King.

Shiro’s arm squeezed around him again. He looked up, blood frozen to solid.

In front of him stood the king himself, staring down at his handy work of The Scarlet Enclave.

“My King, I have brought Keith as you requested.” Shiro bowed. It was nowhere out of respect. Shiro bowed because he needed the king to like him.

Keith did not bow. The valkyrie hovering beside the king sneered.

The king did not seem to mind as he shifted to stare at the two brothers. He ushered Shiro to rise before all his attention was set on Keith. Suddenly, the blood in his veins that felt like streams of thick ice boiled. This was him. The one who has ruined his life.

The king was moving. Thick treads pounding into the spacious balcony of the hold like a brute judge’s gavel. A judge taking away his honour, his freedom, his dignity with every slam of his tool. Metallic fingers, gloved in the finest of metals, brushed the bangs from Keith’s eyes. Keith was thankful for the armor covering his lips so the king did not see the feral snarl plastered onto them.

“All that I am: anger, cruelty, vengeance–,” The king grumbled, “I bestow upon you, my chosen knight. I have granted you immortality so that you may herald in a new, dark age for the Scourge.” The king’s gaze tore to the lands of The Eastern Plaguelands in front of him. Keith followed. “Gaze now upon the lands below us. The Scarlet Crusade scurries to undo my work, while Light’s Hope stands defiantly against us–, a blemish upon these Plaguelands.” He spoke in disgust.

Suddenly the attention was back on Keith again as the king grabbed a fistful of his hair, pulling his head down and baring his ear for him to whisper into.“You will become my force of retribution. Where you tread, doom will follow.”

The Lich King released his fierce hold, straightening to his full height. “You, my knight, will now and forever be known as Akira Moonbourne, The Knight who destroyed Azeroth. Go now, and claim your destiny, Death Knight.”

 

“So, exactly how cold is Northrend? Is all of it cold, or just some of it? I mean most of it is pretty self explanatory. Borean Tundra, Colderra, Icecrown Citadel. This Lich King guy has to be pretty edgy, absolutely cannot wait to meet him.”

Pidge groaned. “Lance, do you ever shut up? We’re literally miles away from shore and my toes are already frozen off.” (To prove her point, she wiggled the ‘frozen’ toes while Hunk had a sheepish look on his face before settling his hand to wrap around her foot, letting his warm, squishy druid magic surge through them.)

“So?!” Lance squawked.

“So, I’m proving your point and saying it’s colder than the catacombs under the Slaughtered Lamb, and that place is freezing.” She yelped, the bicker earning a few glances cast their ways.

Blue, sensing her master’s distress, resettled her head across the Kaldorei’s abdomen, her gentle purr lulling Lance back into a much calmer state of mind, warmth spreading across his body quickly. A sailor poked his head into their barrack.

“Champions, we’ll be docking in a few minutes, get ready to go, we don’t stay long in this god forsaken place.” She grimaced, leaving as quick as she came.

“I guess that’s our cue to leave,” Hunk sighed. His bag was already packed, the overachiever. Pidge had most of her things stuffed into her own version of void storage, while Lance had at least three cases of clothing and self care (he was going to discard it within a week of constant traveling, anyways.)

The dock was a short, sturdy wooden platform that most likely held only four dragons if they squeezed in tight. A volunteer soldier was there to greet them with a bleak ‘welcome to Valiance Keep,’ and a half-hearted shrug towards the direction of the inn which the team would be staying for the time being.

The flight master of the keep was to the right, offering the skill to be able to go airborne in the cold atmosphere, flights to the hub of Northrend, Dalaran, and many surrounding areas. The inn was nice enough, warm and plenty of space for the trio to sleep.

The keep itself consisted of two parts, one for more of residential areas and the other for the main keep, where most of the strategies were formed. A ship was docked in the middle of the two parts, dockmasters and sailors alike heavy at work upon it.

A man by the name of General Arlos heralded the trio over. He stood within the main keep of Valiance Keep, curt with heavy Alliance armor, a suspicious eyepatch, and a rapidly balding head. He was nice enough, happy to have more champions of the Burning Crusade at his order.

“It’s good to have you among us.” He sighed contently, “we’ve all heard of your past deeds. As you know, King Wrynn is moving great armies into Northrend to meet those of Zarkon (The Lich King himself). But armies are nothing without true heroes to inspire and lead them. I want you three to be the hero for my men. Fight alongside them against the Scourge that lays siege to our stronghold.”

The three stood attentive. It was all business now. Their fists covered over their hearts and with a chant, the three spoke, “for the Alliance, sir!”

The general smiled, giving them a salute. “Report to Sergeant Hammerhill outside the inner hold. Valiance Keep cannot fall. The future of our campaign depends on it.”

Lance’s bow was heavy on his back as they made their way towards the gate, once outside, an old dwarf was absolutely ecstatic to see them, geared and ready for battle,

“By Magni’s beard!” He cheered, “looks like the heavy artillery’s arriving.”

In the field (it really wasn’t a field, just a plain of dirt and stench) in front of them, awful looking insects of some sort scattered across the battlefield. They were larger than a Draenei man, some larger than Hunk’s mammoth. They must be the origin of the awful aroma.

  
Hammerhill grinned down at them from the safety of his ram. “Well, well, well.” He chuckled, “It’s good to see Arlos bring out the big guns. Don’t get me wrong - our lads are doing the best they can, but someone of your own renown fighting alongside them could really turn the tides for us.”

The volunteer forces did seem pretty unmotivated, if you asked Lance.

“I’m not sure how much longer we can hold out against these undead Nerubians. What do you say you get out there and kill me some creepers? Show these boys how it’s done.”

“No problem.” Pidge shrugged, “we’ve done some pest control before.”

Hammerhill guffawed loudly, typical dwarf attitude. “That’s the spirit, lads!”

As Lance loaded an arrow into his bow (a bow he had received from the Burning Crusade himself), Hunk took a hesitant glance towards the newly dubbed Nerubians and sighed defeatedly. “Let’s just get this over with, please.” He whined.

Like Lance thought so, the Nerubians were easy enough to kill. Pidge would distract them with a quick stun and maybe a stab while Lance buried an arrow into it’s neck. Sometimes, Blue would follow him up and rip a downed one’s head off. There wasn’t many mishaps until a giant Nerubian dug its way out of the ground. A nearby soldier yelled ‘Crypt lord!’ and Lance guessed that these guys were pretty nasty.

Though, Lance found it pretty easy to just land a couple poisoned arrows in the crevice of it’s exoskeleton. Pidge followed along, afflicting poison wounds all over it’s underside. Within a few minutes, the crypt lord was retreating back to the depths it emerged from.

Hammerhill was, once again, ecstatic upon their return. Showering them with praise and offerings of new gear. None accepted. They all had top tier gear and should be fine until they enlisted in the main raid party.

“We’re doing a good job holding the front line against these, er -, bugs. Some of these cheeky bastards, however, can fly over the aforementioned front lines and are really beating down our inner defenses. I’ve got some fishing nets from some civilian ships. If you’ve got a good enough throwing arm, they’ll knock those bastards right out of the sky. Thin their numbers so that our defenses can hold the keep.” More quests.

“No need for that, Sergeant. Our guild doesn’t call me the Sharpshooter for nothing.” Lance grinned cockily. To prove his point, he quickly loaded his bow and took less than three seconds to shoot one of the damned Scourge Flamespitters out of the sky.

Of course, the sergeant was impressed. Pidge sighed, waving her dagger around. “Lance, no one calls you that. No one calls you The Tailor either. Get over yourself.”

“Shh, Pidge, not in front of the fans.” He winked.

Despite the savage remarks from the small rogue, Hammerhill clapped for the hunter as he shot more of the odd undead out of the skies, more and more dropping dead onto the ground below until the rest got the memo to retreat.

“Amazing!” He cheered, “One more task for ya’, and I’ll let you all retire for the night.

“The Scourge are showing no sign of letting up. It’s those blasted sinkholes; they connect to the tunnels all the way to Icecrown for all we know. Giant undead worms burrow underground to create them. If there’s anything years of mining has taught me it’s that without support beams, tunnels will cave in easily after an explosion.

“Take these explosives and place them at the entrance to the sinkholes on the ridge beyond the beach to the west. Come back after you’ve collapsed them.”

Lance nodded, taking to two bombs from the dwarf before turning to his furry friend. “Hunk, my buddy, my man. You’re the best for this job.”

“What? Why me?” Hunk looked vaguely panicked.

“Because you can turn into some cool kind of falcon and hold these in your giant talons of yours, perks of being a druid. It will get this done faster and we can go back to the inn. It’s already getting dark out here. And who knows what comes out during the night.” Lance reasoned, even Pidge agreed with him.

It took some convincing, but Hunk eventually caved, morphing into a falcon and allowing Lance to situate the explosive into his talons before shooting off, identifying the first sinkhole and releasing the bomb, not waiting around for it to singe the ends of his feathers. Hunk returned to the keep, quickly armed up with the next bomb and headed to the next sinkhole. It exploded as easy as the last. A few Nerubians were close enough to be angered by the blast, but nowhere quick enough to make a pass at Hunk.

Hammerhill, hyper as ever, rewarded the three with a copious sack of gold and silver, shooing them off to the inn, clearly pleased with their work done within a day. He explained that tomorrow, he would be sending them off on separate missions across the tundra.

Lance didn’t even think about the cute barmaids or the inviting atmosphere of the living area of the inn. Fighting Scourge really took it out of a man. They were all quick to settle into their thickly bedded cots. Blue snuck in beside him, providing more than enough warmth for her master. Within a few tosses and turns, he was out like a light.

(And Pidge wasn’t sneaky. Lance could easily see her tiptoe under Hunk’s covers and into his cuddly embrace.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pidge you sneaky girl. 
> 
> Hope ya'll enjoyed the peak at Keith and Shiro... ;)
> 
> Until next time!
> 
> -sleepyshaman is going to sleep now. It's 2:30 in the morning.


End file.
